


Quidditch, Beer, and Family

by annegirlblythe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But he loves gossip, Charlie discovers it by accident, Charlie doesn't like to talk about himself, Charlie is ace-aro, Gen, M/M, Mostly one long conversation, Oliver loves Quidditch, Percy is a workaholic, Percy tries to keep his relationship a secret, Quidditch, Tell-all, What else is new?, bros being bros, weasley family drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 00:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10374135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annegirlblythe/pseuds/annegirlblythe
Summary: Charlie needs a place to stay after a fight at the ranch. When he arrives at Percy's flat, the evening that follows is as welcome as it is unexpected."The flat is nice - cleaner than Charlie’s own little cottage, but somehow just as home-y, even with its modern architecture and weirdly metal tiles. Maybe knowing that Percy isn’t coming home to it empty helps the atmosphere a little.'You congratulated me a few minutes ago,' Oliver says with a sideways grin."





	

_ Headstrong and overbearing, indeed,  _ Charlie fumes to himself, having stormed away from his ranch in typical Gryffindor fashion following a screaming match with his business partner and the government agent in charge of their affairs. 

  
It didn’t help matters that his business partner was also his  _ partner  _ partner, and the government agent was also his soon-to-be sister-in-law. 

And that they were  _ hell-bent  _ on making sure Charlie got the raw end of every  _ single  _ compromise between the three of them. He was supposed to be the temperate one! He was supposed to be the rational decision-maker, the head for the business, the negotiator. Hagrid was meant to test Hermione’s boundaries, to try and sneak underneath the rules, to want one more dragon. Hermione was supposed to find the questionable egg in the barn behind the hatchery and thank Charlie for his steady hand and - 

He needs a place to go. Home - the ranch - is so clearly not an option, he can’t even think about his cottage right now. Warm and cozy as it was, and - 

No. Where was he going to go? _ Come on, Charlie, think. Could stay with Mum and Dad, but they’d want me to talk about. Can’t go to Hermione’s, so that’s Ron and Ginny out. Don’t want to bother Bill with the new baby -  _ Percy. He could go to Percy’s. 

Percy wouldn’t make him talk about it - he never had. Probably wouldn’t even be home. Charlie could just let himself into Percy’s flat in the upscale, newly gentrified street near Knockturn Alley. 

Charlie doesn’t seek Percy out all that often, with the vastly different lives the two of them lead, but they are fairly close. Charlie’s sure, in fact, that he’s closer to Percy than most of his siblings. With his lodgings for the evening decided upon, Charlie Apparates to the edge of Knockturn Alley, thinking he’ll probably fit in better on the scarier streets than where his brother lives. He runs a hand through his wild mane, and wishes he’d thought to bring a cloak or something to go over his torn, charred work clothes. 

Ah well, he was a wizard, wasn’t he? Plenty of wizards went around looking like this. Dragons didn’t make for clean work, but neither did plenty of things. Charlie decides to ignore his ragged appearance and make for Percy’s flat, up several flights of steep stone stairs, fashionably tall and cobblestoned. There’s nothing like this on the ranch. 

Not expecting a response, Charlie raises his hand to the lion knocker, which says pleasantly, “one moment please.” 

“Coming!” shouts a voice from inside that’s certainly not Percy’s. Charlie is just about to place exactly who it sounds like when the door opens to reveal Oliver Wood’s grinning mug. 

“Charlie!” he exclaims. “What are you doing here?” 

They hug, quickly, and Charlie pulls back to answer, “I could ask you the same question.” 

Oliver’s a little sweaty, and wearing a thin white undershirt and Quiddich trousers. Fresh from a game, then. Charlie’s liked the kid a lot since his own fifth year, when the spunky, competitive Keeper came to try-out for the Gryffindor team. They’d been friends the next two years, and Charlie had loved watching him get better and better with every match. 

“Ah, hell, I guess you’re as good a place as any to start,” Oliver answers, his accent as jaunty as usual, even as much as he’s blushing. “I’m kinda dating your brother.” 

“Oh!” Charlie exclaims, surprised. “Well, congratulations! How’s it going? I thought he was dating Angelina!” 

“Angelina...?” Oliver replies, not understanding.

“Yeah, he dated her for like two years. I didn’t know they’d--” 

“No, no, no, wait,” Oliver answers, interrupting. They’re still standing in the flat’s bright little entryway. “I’m, uh. Not George. I’m dating Percy.” 

“ _ What!?”  _ Charlie exclaims. He really doesn’t understand relationships. 

“I guess that’s why you weren’t surprised.” 

“Surprised!? My God, you and  _ Percy _ !?” 

“We haven’t told anyone else yet. It’s been on and off since we were fifteen. Now, I guess, it’s on for good.” 

Oliver smiles, then, and Charlie remembers that for most people, the announcing of a relationship is a good thing. “Jesus Christ,” he says, running a hand through his hair and trying to picture the two together. “Is it going okay? Are you guys both  _ happy?”  _

“Yes, of course it is. I love him a lot.” 

“You’re so different, though,” Charlie contents, remembering nights at Hogwarts when Percy had studied on the floor of Charlie’s dormitory rather than go back to his own and face a spitting-mad Oliver who wanted his sleep before the next day’s match. They’re older now, though, Charlie supposes, and the war had changed them all...

“You’re literally shaking up with a half-giant forty years older than you, you _arse_!” Oliver exclaims, laughing. 

“Touche,” Charlie answers, decided not to argue that he and Hagrid aren’t actually  _ dating,  _ that it’s more of a mutual partnership than anything. His mood is improving, like it always does around Oliver, who thumps Charlie a little too hard on the chest and leads him into Percy’s kitchen. The flat is nice - cleaner than Charlie’s own little cottage, but somehow just as home-y, even with its modern architecture and weirdly metal tiles. Maybe knowing that Percy isn’t coming home to it empty helps the atmosphere a little. It’s so clean. 

“You congratulated me a few minutes ago,” Oliver says with a sideways grin. “Or was the just for George?” 

“Oh. Yeah, congratulations! Sorry, I guess, I was just in shock.” 

“Yeah, I am, too, sometimes. We’re happy as hell, though. We calm each other down. You know how we’re both high-strung, obviously, but we get together and we just...create this weird calm. It’s like being in the eye of the storm.” 

It makes less than no sense to Charlie, to whom relationships seem like the storm itself, but he smiles nonetheless. “Where is Percy, anyway, speaking of storms?” 

“Work,” Oliver answers, with a roll to his eyes, as he leans against the marble (how much is Percy  _ making? _ ) “Where the hell else?” 

“Right. So, since you were  _ fifteen?  _ You two certainly didn’t waste any time once I was gone.” 

“No. We started up right after he became a Prefect and I got your Captain position. We broke up during the summer of sixth year, and then we dated a little while before the war, and a few months during. A few months ago, we....” Oliver trails off, his face as focused and beatific as it ever is when discussing Quidditch. “He’s grown up, Charlie, and I have, too. It’s  _ working.  _ It feels so good to talk about this.” 

The idea that Charlie isn’t the last know to know, but the first, begins to dawn on him. His brothers are a strange lot. “Are you guys gonna tell my family?” he asks. 

“We’ve both been worried about our careers, if it got out, but we’re thinking at Christmas this year...” Oliver scrubs a hand through his own hair, where sweat is drying. 

Charlie wonders if he’s just come from Puddlemere practice or his own workout, and answers in a teasing tone, “You can’t come to Christmas!” 

“Why not?” Oliver asks, panicked.

“You’ll  _ crush  _ us at Quidditch!” When Oliver looks blank, Charlie summarizes the Weasley tradidtion of matches at the Burrow. “We play a match every time we’re all home at the same time, right, blood Weasleys against various in-laws. We used to win every year, but with Harry and Angelina and Alexandrea from the Hollyhead Harpies and  _ you,  _ how does my family have a chance? If he brings you home, you’ll have three professional players and we’ll have one.” 

Oliver grins wickedly. “Now I’m pushing  _ harder  _ to make Perce take me.” 

“Oh,  _ God,  _ we should all be prohibited from dating.” 

A comfortable silence settles over them, as Charlie digests the information that  _ Percy  _ is dating  _ Oliver Motherfucking Wood.  _ It helps to think about something other than the shitshow at home. Across from him, Oliver is clearly trying to balance the odds he has against the all-Weasley team.  _ It had been a stronger team when they had a pair of human bludgers -  _ neither man says. 

“You want a beer?” Oliver thinks to ask, eventually. 

“That sounds great, thanks.” 

The Keeper turns to peer into the fridge. Charlie watches him sift through two different six-packs to find a better brand in the back corner. He smiles when Oliver hands one to him, and uncaps it with his wand. 

“So...what are you doing here?” Oliver asks. “Not to be rude, but you and Perce aren’t really visiting types. What drew you from your cave?” 

“Ugh,” Charlie huffs, and takes a long pull from the beer in his and. “I needed a place to stay, and thought Percy would ask the fewest questions. I’m not really....into talking about it.” 

“What, when I just bared my soul to you?” 

There are times when Oliver’s cocky grin is more annoying than endearing. 

“It’s not important, really, and I’m kinda tired.” Charlie deflects, then remembers a certain shared interest that will get Oliver off his case better than anything else will. “You wanna watch the game?” 

Oliver nods, but he looks as though he knows what Charlie’s doing. He leads the way into the posh living room, where the newest and most expensive pitch model on the market is already set up on the coffee table. It’s huge, and though it’s not tuned to a game yet (he thinks maybe the Canons play later tonight) the players are hovering over the board in realistic formation, and he bets the model is nice enough that he’ll be able to follow the Snitch. 

“Canons are on at seven,” Oliver says, fiddling on the side of the pitch model with his wand. “And I know you lot are batty for ‘em, but it looks like the Waverlies versus the Crystal Garden is on now. I’ll put it on, but you can talk if you need to.” 

“Thanks,” Charlie says genuinely, as the player’s robes change into Waverly Lavender and Crystal Garden Green and the tiny balls begin to whizz around the board. It’s his favorite way to watch a game. “When’s Percy due home?” 

“Six, theoretically.” 

“So, like, eight?” 

“If not later, yeah.” 

“Are you okay with that?” Charlie always wonders how other people’s relationships work. So much of Dora’s drama had come from not getting enough attention from (or sometimes, not giving enough attention to) her partners. Is this a universal struggle? Sometimes he’s glad he’s aromantic. 

“Oh, yeah. It’s fine, I mean, I do the same thing after every game. I usually come home drunk, to boot, so I get it. We wouldn’t be who we we are if we didn’t do what we do, you know?” Oliver reaches inside the coffee table to his right and pulls out a quilt Charlie recognizes as his mother’s creation, and a Gryffindor fleece that’s too clean to be Oliver’s. Charlie picks the quilt, and wraps it around his shoulders to watch the game. He wonders, then, if Oliver’s ease in the flat means that he lives here, too, even though most of the personal things laying out - not that there are many - are recognizably Percy’s. 

“Thanks for the blanket. Do you live here?” It’s comfortable, here on his brother’s couch with an old friend, and his troubles at home are fading into his second beer. 

“I’m here a lot,” Oliver answers, “But I do occasionally crash at my own place, if only to make sure Alicia and Katie haven’t taken all my stuff. When my lease is up...well, I haven’t talked to him about it, yet.” 

Charlie smiles. He likes that Percy has this, that in some ways, this modern flat is just as cozy as Charlie’s own cottage on the ranch. 

\---

A few hours later, Charlie and Oliver are watching in quiet dismay as the Chudley Canons are handily smashed on the pitched, when a plume of smoke from the fireplace in the next room lights the flat faintly green for a moment, and then a voice calls out, “Hey, darling, I’m home. Did you wait up?” 

Charlie grins devilishly, as Oliver calls out, “Yeah, in here!” 

Percy, smartly dressed, but looking ready to fall asleep on his feet stops short in the doorway at the sight on the couch. 

“Hey, Perce,” Charlie says, enjoying the moment.  

“What are you doing here?” Percy asks, voice tight. 

“Came to sleep on your couch, and I met your boyfriend. Congratulations, by the way.” 

“Oh, my Godric,” Percy breathes, then addresses his boyfriend. “I didn’t realize we were  _ telling people, now,  _ Oliver.” 

“It’s  _ fine _ , hon.” Oliver answers, arms out as though he’s expecting Percy to fold himself into them, and Charlie wonders whether he emphasized his accent on purpose or not. 

“Percy, I’m really happy for you.,” he says, and watches as his brother’s body relaxes, and he pulls his cloak and boots off and runs a hand through his neat hair. Oliver adjusts the Gryffindor fleece as though to indicate that there’s room beneath it, and Charlie is shocked when Percy sighs elegantly and takes the spot between his brother and his boyfriend on the couch. 

Oliver kisses his cheek, and Percy pinks a little as he addresses Charlie. “I meant to tell you. I meant to tell you first, I just - “ 

“It’s fine, Perce, really. It seems like you’re really happy.” 

Percy smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. Although I hope I can say the same for you - what are you doing here?” 

Percy is saved from having to answer when the Pitch Model on the table sudden explodes in orange confetti. “ANDERSON GETS THE SNITCH AND THE CANONS TAKE AN UNLIKELY VICTORY!!” Oliver screams from the side of the couch. 

Charlie grins. The night may have redeemed itself...a little. He’ll go home in the morning and make things right. If Percy can be this stupidly happy, maybe he can, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm harryjamesheadcanons on tumblr :)


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